Too much miscellany, not enough time.

July 31, 2008

My mind is usually scattered among too many things to let food cravings inch their way in like they used to.

But for a few months there's been one major exception. On some afternoons I start thinking about the petite spring rolls and mildly warm noodles with soy skin rolls and shitake mushrooms at Viet Noodle Bar in Atwater, and I CANNOT STOP.

I find ways to acquiesce. Some days I'm alone and able to eat, read and think. Other times I call ahead, grab my food to go, and balance take-out containers with wiggly James in my arms. On such days, often the sublime spring rolls with tofu, fried shallots, basil, carrots and jicama are gone by the time I'm home. Their chewy and crunchy textures psyche me up for the sweet tang of the noodles and delicate tofu to come. Not the most flavorful dish in the world, but a few dashes of siracha push it along.

Though the original Soy Cafe's minuscule location on Hyperion had its charms (and its challenges; try balancing an infant and your own tush on what felt like 8" diameter stools), the second expanded location breathes easy. I usually sit at the communal table best set up for single diners, which is narrower than the more social table that lines the other side of the restaurant. Plus they try to like, feed your mind, man. Alas, the selection of smarty pants and culturally with-it books that filled the continuous rectangular niche in the north wall have been taken back by their owner.

Best of all, the room's white-on-brown serenity and the meal serve to quell the intensity of my jones. Equilibrium and focus are then restored.

September 13, 2006

My only associations with deep Reseda are Boogie Nights and The Karate Kid. But I've been kind of intrigued by the array of restaurants I've noticed along Reseda Boulevard en route to our doula's house. Based on a quick scanning of business signs, there doesn't appear to be any one predominant ethnic group out there. And some signs make for fun roadside reading; It's All Good Kabob House definitely wins the prize for best restaurant name.

It's All Good appeared to be closed last night so instead I had a late dinner at Pho 999. I then remembered that I've been to the Van Nuys location eons ago, and haven't been back.

I can't say the bun with cha gio merits a special return trip to the Reseda outpost either. The texture of beef was nearing jerky-like toughness, and the fried cha gio are closer to average dull spring rolls than funky, thick blistering ones. But I like the scallions, sweet pickled carrots and radish, and the generous amount of noodles and lettuce. The room's spaciousness and heavy-on-the-redness pleases, even if I could've done without the Larry King blaring on the TV sets.

To be fair, I also might have ordered badly; pho's usually a better litmus test anyway. But for this level of Vietnamese food I'll save the gas and, alas, just resign myself to the local Silver Lake Vietnamese hipster spots.

July 06, 2006

I've read about Blossom, the Vietnamese restaurant in the Historic Core, but it's still a little shocking to find a place like this while walking from City Hall to 6th Street along Main on a weekday. I love the barely-there celadon green colored walls and thick wood tables, and the menu appeals.

Though tempted by the packed with goodies crepes, I try the bun with cia gio and steak ($5.75) since that's a good litmus test. (Today is too hot for pho.) The bun is OK, nothing to write home about. The bowl contains firm noodles, freshly shredded lettuce, tender steak slices, and underwhelming cha gio and sauce on the side. The skin of the egg rolls doesn't have the satisfying heft and crackling exterior I crave. I know the sauce isn't supposed to have too strong of a flavor, but this seems quite weak and I need to add in a lot of the bright red hot sauce to compensate. Of all things, the ginger lemonade packs a serious punch. Yet I can't say I don't enjoy lunch. All in all, I can read my magazine in well-lit, stylish peace in a location that would be considered highly unlikely just a few years ago.

For more flava I stop at Pazzo Gelato on my way back to the office. It's toasty outside, I'm six months pregnant, so what's wrong with a mid-week daytime ice cream break? I easily thrill to the fact that the gelato cycle is finally coming back, unseen since the 80s quickly witnessed a similar trend (anyone remember Gelato per Tutti on Melrose?). It makes such perfect sense; there's no reason we should go without quality freshly made ice creams, diet trends be damned.

A couple weeks ago five adults and one baby occupied a table here for a couple hours while we took turns going back to the counter for more scoops. So I'm obviously already a fan of this place. Today the fig balsamic and pistachio I order make for an odd combo at first. It's unclear where the balsamic comes into the fig gelato equation; the most discernable taste is that of the earthy, perfumed fruit. With the other flavor, I first sense the typical sweetness of pistachio, and then the rich nuttiness kicks in. These actually two wind up being very complimentary. Other flavors I can endorse are strawberry/banana, espresso, chocolate malt, and Madagascar vanilla. It's no San Crispino or Giolitti in Rome, but these gelati strike a balance between traditional and inventive, and are among the best we'll see in the area � until June starts serving their versions.